


Now, why would I lie to you?

by BirdLittle



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Far From Home, Eventual Happy Ending, I mean KIND OF?, Internal Conflict, Lies, Lies get tattooed on the other soulmate, M/M, Manipulation, Not Beta Read, POV Multiple, POV Peter Parker, POV Quentin Beck, Sexual Content, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdLittle/pseuds/BirdLittle
Summary: Black lies: to hurt, manipulate, or gain a personal benefit.White lies: to please another person or spare them pain.The lies you hear from your soulmate are written onto your body in their handwriting; in white or black, and either painfully or subtly.When Quentin Beck starts lying, Peter Parker does too.
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 39
Kudos: 118
Collections: Marvel





	1. Eyes of the innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is 17.5, Beck is in his early 30s.

_“Change of plans Beck, the kid agreed.”_

Quentin froze. Fury kept talking. Probably explaining what was going to happen, now that Spider-Man was onboard. Some joke about not having to redirect the entire school trip, an off-hand comment to someone in the other room. But Beck wasn’t listening.

Shit, Spide-- No, _Peter Parker_ was on board. Which meant he was going with them to Prague.

Why. Why would he?

Beck had been standing in his hotel room’s bathroom, studying the peculiar marks on his own body in the mirror reflection, mind racing, panic not far from taking over, when suddenly Fury called. Seeing the caller ID might as well have been the equivalent of Beck dumping ice-cold water over his head, and it definitely cut off a couple of years of his life. With shaky hands and the thought of ‘oh well, it was a good yet short run’ Beck had picked up.

He was onboard. Peter fucking Parker was going with them to Prague. _Why?_

Fury was in no way suspicious of anything. One walk through Fury’s centre of operations was more than enough time to plant a bug, and there was nothing. No alerts, no distant angry yelling even.

Vaguely, Beck remembered finishing the call with Fury, before reaching out across his body again, to the subtle white marks circling around his torso, neck and even down on his thighs when he checked. A rather messy handwriting, rushed just like the way those lines were said. Extra messy where the kid had stuttered, softer where he had spoken quieter.

_Y-yeah, I’m good, fine… Yes! Yes, sorry, just, uh, taking it all in… I know, but that was an accident!_ _Sir, look, I really wanna help, I do…_

_Taking a walk. Clearing my head and all that… Well, running helps more…_

White marks. White lies. Peter lied, and Beck got the words on him to prove it. And Beck was definitely lying before, so shouldn't Peter know that too? _Why did he agree to come?_

Fuck. They were soulmates.

* * *

It all started with an itch on his back.

In his Spider-Man suit, skin-tight and professionally made for long hours of superhero-ing, Peter never really got any itches. Well, sure, there was still sometimes that usual body feeling of needing that relief, but no problems from the actual suit. And not on his back of all places. Not like this.

“We could use someone like you on my world.” Quentin Beck said, a friendly smile and approving look, and for a moment Peter didn’t even realise what the man had actually said.

“Thanks.” And then came the itch.

“I-I’m sorry,” Peter ignored it, only shifting his shoulders a bit, hoping the suit would move and satisfy that awkward feeling, “Your world?”

“Mr Beck is from Earth. Just not yours.” Fury answered, walking by him.

“There are multiple realities, Peter.” Beck was looking at him again now, and suddenly there came another itch, on Peter’s shoulder, “This is Earth, Dimension 616.” And another, “I’m from Earth 833.” And one more, these two new ones by his elbow and thigh.

Peter tried not to wince at the sudden abuse on his body, he was talking to Mysterio after all, “I’m sorry, uh, y-you’re saying there’s a multiverse?”

He barely managed to keep his face still, and only reached to scratch the itch on his arm, feeling it was the least embarrassing of the five. They got stronger and moved and grew and as suddenly as they appeared, they just disappeared, leaving a tingling sensation on those places. Like someone drew a marker across his skin. _What the hell?_

“Peter? You alright?” Shit, was Peter really not answering for that long? He looked back up at Beck, whose blue eyes now stared at him in worry, almost analysing his every action.

“Y-yeah, I’m good, fine, just um,” Peter awkwardly cleared his throat, seeing that even the great Mysterio was now awkwardly scratching at his neck, looking away, “I-I just thought that was all theoretical. I mean that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity, so, like we're talking about an internal inflation system and how does that even work with all the quantum--? It's insane--”

Peter instantly shut his mouth the moment he turned, and realised everyone was looking at him, rather unamused and perhaps even a little frustrated. He didn’t quite realise how quickly he slipped into scientific rambling. “S-sorry. It’s really cool…”

But turning back around, Peter was met with an amused but approving smile from Beck, “Don’t ever apologise for being the smartest one in the room.”

Peter may be getting random itches out of nowhere, but at least he wasn’t totally embarrassing himself in front of yet another hero. The man did all but eye him curiously.

“Hm, anyway…” Hill remarked, and tapped away at her computer, bringing up colourful holograms in the middle of the room.

Beck began talking, “There were born in stable orbits within black holes…” And suddenly the itches were everywhere.

“Creatures formed from--” On his foot and calve, “--fire, earth. The Science Division had—” Up his spine and across his stomach, “--Elementals.”

_FUCK_. Peter began swaying from side to side and even hugged his stomach when that last itch came along, wishing for this torment to end as quickly as it did before. _Why? Why? WHY?_

Maybe Beck or Fury or someone noticed his odd behaviour, but nobody commented on it. Peter blanked out and stopped listening. Hill said something about mythologies, Beck confirmed it, and another itch came, under his arm now.

Fury seemed to have confirmed something, and Beck kept explaining things, but Peter could barely keep up. With every word said, the itches increased, turning from unpleasant to distracting and for a few seconds downright painful.

“Parker? Are you listening?” The last itch faded, and Peter’s head snapped up to the voice.

Fury sat in his chair glaring at him, the man’s one eye doing enough for a normal person’s two. Everyone else was staring at him as well, every pair of eyes supposedly burning through him, probably with impatience, confusion, or disappointment. It’s not like he wants to be this uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Yes! Yes, sorry, just, uh, taking it all in.” Peter looked away, turning to Beck again, perhaps hoping for a friendly smile again. But even there he was met with uncertain eyes.

“Please, continue,” Peter mumbled, embarrassment flowing through his entire body.

“The Fire Elemental,” Hill re-explained, “In Prague. In approximately 48 hours.”

“And you’re coming with us.” Fury added on, not even phrasing it as a question.

“Oh, uh, I--" _Prague? Fire monster? End of the world?_ “This is all like bigtime, huge superhero kinda stuff. And, I mean, I’m just a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, sir.”

He was met with a rather standard reply from Fury.

“I know, but that was an accident!” Not exactly, but in hindsight, he definitely should not have been there, “Sir, come on. There’s gotta be someone else you can use, what about Thor?”

Nope.

“Um, Doctor Strange?”

Also, nope.

“Captain Marvel!”

“Don’t invoke her name.”

“Sir, look, I really wanna help, I do,” Well, that part was debatable, but he had his other good reasons. He could not be Spider-Man in Europe, it was a coincidence that he even had his suit with him in the first place. Thanks, Aunt May.

To his surprise, Fury suddenly just agreed. “Why don’t you go back before your teachers miss you and become suspicious.”

The rather scary looking Dmitri was ordered to escort him back to his hotel, even though Peter was not really lost and didn’t quite need the guidance. The man left before Peter even began scaling up the wall to his room, not even turning around to check if Peter even went for his window, clearly not that interested in babysitting a teenage superhero. The old hotel seemed to sway and creak extra loudly in the night, one decibel away from waking up every student, or god-forbid, a teacher from his trip.

Ned still lay passed out where they had left him, probably out cold for the rest of the night. So, Peter was left all alone. Again.

A sudden frustration burnt up through his body. Smacking the spider on his chest perhaps a little too harshly Peter let the suit fall off him onto the floor without a care. The day was ruined. A water monster first, then another end of the world, and he couldn’t even stand still and listen to what Mr Beck was saying because his body decided _to fuck with him_.

Walking around the room, searching for his pyjamas or toothbrush, wishing for the day to end, Peter reached to where his body had burned up less than an hour ago. He was met with nothing but his own smooth skin. No bumps, no irritating feeling, no itch, nothing.

_Fucking hell, why? Why did—_ Peter looked down and his brain skidded to a stop.

Across his stomach, where a rather painful itch had sprouted earlier, there was a mark. A beautifully scribbled black string, no, those were words, so, a sentence, going across his entire lower left side. Tilting his head, Peter could just make out the upside-down handwriting.

_We just called them Elementals…_

Printed onto him in black, a lie. A soulmate mark.

The floor dropped from beneath his feet, and he crashed down with a thud. He has a soulmate. Peter Parker just met his soulmate.

Fuck, who was it? Twisting around he spotted more marks across his entire body. Every itch, every painful carving into his skin, was a sentence. The words which he still remembered so well, the deep smooth voice, that smile--

Black marks. Black lies. Lies. They were lies.

Beck lied. Beck was his soulmate. And he lied.

_There are multiple realities, Peter…. This is Earth, Dimension 616…. I’m from Earth 833…._

No. No, no, no. What. That’s a lie?

_They were born in stable orbits within black holes…_

That’s impossible, how are they all lies?

_We mobilized and fought them…. But with each battle, they grew, got stronger…_

Peter was there. He saw the monster. He got hit by the water. Why are they all _lies?_ Black lies at that, a lie for a personal benefit or to cause pain. And there were just so many of them already. The marks littered his entire body, from his shoulder blades to his feet, lines stretching out and curling around, that beautiful handwriting, spinning false tales.

Beck lied. Whatever he was lying about and why Peter couldn’t begin to guess. An interdimensional warrior who lied about the monsters they were fighting seemed to give no motive. No, but the dimension thing was a lie. Maybe he got the numbers mixed up? No, it would be in white then, right? Was he even from another dimension?

Adrenaline pumping through his body, Peter jumped up into the air. Scrambling around he threw on the first pair of pants and a shirt that he could find, slapped on his web-shooters, and in the last second decided to throw on something long-sleeve for the mark on his forearm. Taking a deep breath, Peter hopping back out the window and practically sprinted down the wall.

Stumbling upon landing, Peter didn’t notice the pot plant he knocked over on the way down, nor the dog he scared as he began sprinting through the streets of Venice. All he knew, was that Beck lied. He told lie after lie after lie, all bad, all selfish, all harmful.

Peter had to get to Fury.

Beck was lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: can't believe i wrote this in one sitting while on holiday and now it's my most updated fic here
> 
> PS: Please correct me on any spelling/grammar mistakes! Thanks <3


	2. Lies of the guilty

The first time Peter saw a lie printed on someone, aside from his Aunt and Uncle, of course, was in elementary.

Class had ended, and Peter just wanted to ask his teacher what to do with the permission slip, as Ms Rivera said their parents needed to sign it. Maybe she didn’t know, or had forgotten to say ‘guardian’ instead, but Peter can’t remember that detail now. He just remembers waiting for his teacher.

Ms Rivera and the new substitute, Ms Fitzpatrick he thinks her name was, were talking after class. The usual slightly annoying chit-chat between teachers, unaware of a waiting seven-year-old in the corner. And then it just… happened.

Peter stood behind his teacher, and suddenly on her forearm, there sprouted an intricate white vine, that grew and took shape and settled in the shape of a beautifully written cursive phrase.

_Oh, yes, we’re very happy…_

Peter left without talking to his teacher. Was he supposed to point it out and draw attention to himself? Was it rude to stare at something like that? Was it something private?

Later that day, his Aunt and Uncle explained soulmate marks in more detail. Ben told him that this happens sometimes between soulmates. Accidental lies, to cover up a personal problem from a stranger, because they hadn’t realised that they were soulmates yet. It’s just a matter of life, totally harmless. His Aunt says it helps to strengthen the relationship, that even though your soulmate is your perfect match, other factors in life can still get in the way.

Peter was too young to know what happened to his teachers, too young to hear about the unhealthy relationship that Ms Fitzpatrick ended, too naïve to know what ‘abuse’ meant. All he knew was that Ms Rivera and Ms Fitzpatrick were married by next fall. And they were happy. They were soulmates. They were meant to be, no matter their past.

Peter lived on wishing his soulmate will be like that. The perfect person for him.

A perfect match.

\---

So no, Peter didn’t exactly memorise the layout of the city, and yes, he forgot his phone, but it’s not like ‘secret hideout of SHIELD’s ex-director Nick Fury in some sewer in Venice’ was a legitimate address he could punch into Google Maps.

Which left Peter with option B: running approximately in the direction he _thinks_ is right and search every nook and cranny until he’s proven otherwise. And all the while his mind raced a thousand miles a second, in-between the emotional rollercoaster he was pushing through, there were only two other things playing on loop.

_Beck lied._ _Beck was his soulmate._ _Beck lied. Beck was his soulmate._ _Beck lied-- Fuck._

Why did he lie? _They were black lies, so a personal benefit--_

But were they lies for a good reason? _Personal benefit, but maybe for a good cause--_

Was all of it bullshit? _The multiverse, the elementals, the monster in Prague--_

Was every goddam word a lie? _Don’t ever apologise for being the smartest one in the room._

It’s not like Peter sat in his hotel room for hours inspecting every surface of his body, but maybe that last one wasn’t a total lie. Maybe if he stopped to search, he’d at least find those words etched onto him in white rather than black. It would be a nice change of pace from the dark ink littering his body right now, a public sign to the world about his sorry situation.

He got to another crossing and slowed down on the flimsy bridge, taking a moment to steady his breathing.

Surely, Fury would know what to do, right? The ex-director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and an international superspy, not to mention an actual adult who has probably dealt more with lying soulmates than Peter himself or Ned. It might be a little awkward but what was Peter supposed to do? To just _not_ bust into the hideout mere minutes after rejecting the man’s request to come to Prague and suddenly announce he’s got a soulmate who happens to be Beck and he knows this because Beck’s been lying to them about everything?

Peter reached another ‘street’ but with no crossing and took his chance that no one was watching to leap over the gap. He landed with a thud, wood creaking under the pressure and kept going.

_Beck lied._ _Beck was his soulmate._ _Beck lied._

The streets were all starting to blend together, and that large bridge was nowhere in sight. Another turn made Peter think he was going in circles. Probably was. In fact, he probably already passed the hideout given how far away from the hotel he was, and the hideout is in fact far behind him now.

At an intersection of sorts, Peter hopped onto a ledge to look around. To his right, at the end of the ‘street’ there opened a wider canal. With minimum thinking and very rough logical, Peter reasoned that if anywhere, a large stone bridge would be built over a larger gap of water. He started running again, joints stiff and muscles burning. Just a bit further. The light was so close. Just –

From around the corner walked out a lone figure. And Peter practically flew right into them.

“SHIT!” The teen had enough decency to swerve and only partially clip his poor victim, but the momentum still sent the person stumbling, and Peter rather gracelessly rolling into the railing ahead. It was made of metal too. At least he only hit his side with it.

“Peter?” That fucking voice. That deep, smooth voice, fucking--

Scrambling to sit upright, Peter looked up at the man in front of him. Now in casual attire, super-suit forgotten, and still with that devilish smile, stood Mysterio. “Hey, kid.”

Those eyes were looking at him so kindly, with a bit of surprise, but they left Peter frozen to the ground, an awful dread settling in his stomach. The faint feeling of fight or flight was crawling up his back, and between the blood pumping still through his veins and heavy breathing, it was a wonder Peter didn’t straight up bolt when Beck took a step towards him.

“Didn’t expect to see you out and about so late.”

Peter’s voice died in his throat. What was he supposed to say? And here Peter thought he was the only idiot running through the streets of Venice at night. Or at least the only one with a good motive and presumably clear conscience.

He rushed to stand before the offered helping hand could reach him.

“Y-yeah, just uh,” _Lie. No, don’t lie. Wait, yes, lie. No, wait--_ “Taking a walk. Clearing my head and all that.”

Stating something wasn’t a lie, right? Would the universe count that as a lie? He was walking (sprinting) for whatever reason, which in turn also cleared his mind (he couldn’t stop thinking).

Contrasting the thunderstorm wreaking havoc in Peter’s mind, Beck gave a light-hearted chuckle, “Bit of a fast walk there.”

“Well, running helps more.” Peter felt his heart plummet as his mind registered the lie that left his mouth. “Um, so, clearing my head… It’s just all so crazy, you know.”

“I understand.” Beck gave no indication of discomfort. Nor did he seem to mind Peter’s overly agitated nature. “Want to walk with me instead?”

_No, no, no._ “That’s fine really--”

“Please, my hotel is right that way.” Beck gestured vaguely in the direction he was walking before, and Peter’s eyes followed his every movement, “And you might as well catch your breath.” Ironically, when Beck turned back around with a playful smirk, Peter found it rather difficult to let air into his lungs. But he couldn’t exactly say no without making it suspicious either.

Beck started walking ahead without a pause. Peter forced himself to follow right behind.

They ended up walking side by side. No matter how many times Peter tried to fall back a little, for his own comfort, Beck always slowed down and fell into step right beside him. Like a good person would, a gentleman. It was annoying. It was too nice.

Peter made sure to at least keep a decent distance between them and couldn’t stop not so subtly looking over at Beck when the man made any odd movement. Whether Beck ruffled through his hair or adjusted his clothing, Peter was watching him. Just in case.

“You okay there, Peter?” _Shit._ Peter quickly met the man’s eyes and saw concern. “Sorry, we must have thrown quite a lot at you so quickly.”

_Sorry_ … Peter didn’t feel an itch.

“No, no, it’s just…” _Don’t lie._ “…I don’t know.”

They keep walking further. Peter tried to only look ahead, but the recurring two thoughts kept ringing in his head, making ignoring Beck to be quite difficult.

_Beck lied. Beck was his soulmate. Beck lied._

They had maybe another ten minutes to walk. Alone, in the streets of Venice. Where one is possibly a liar, or possibly from another dimension, and the other about to go snitch on the first one. Without much evidence aside from some soul marks, a rather private thing.

Great. Here goes nothing.

“So…” Interrogation was never his strong suit, “Another dimension, huh?”

“Yeah.” Beck answered like it’s nothing, no big deal, “It’s still something to get used to.”

Peter was ready. The itch came up his calve. But _why_ and _which part_ of that was that a lie? Because he’s already used to it? Or because he’s not actually from another dimension?

When the man doesn’t elaborate, Peter pushes for more, “And i-is it much different?”

“Hm, in some parts, yeah,” Beck reaches up to scratch at his chin, thinking over something, “Little things. Like, ice-cream tastes a bit odd. But maybe that’s just Europe. Haven’t been here in a while.”

Peter put on a smile, and ignored the itch that crawled along his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, it’s a little different.”

The itch started after Beck finished talking, does that mean it’s all a lie or just the last few bits? Shit, how does this thing work anyway? He should have paid more attention to Ned’s rambling, back when his friend was obsessed with the notion of soulmates.

“Can I- Um, can I ask how you got here?” Peter’s somehow succeeding attempt at espionage continued, “To this universe I mean. Science? O-or magic? Could we recreate that here?”

Beck took a moment to answer. “Possibly. I was never much involved in the scientific aspect of that process. I just managed to make it out in time.”

There probably wasn’t an angle from which Peter could look at himself and not see a mark.

“You know, Peter,” Beck suddenly said, unprompted, “There’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re not coming with us.”

Peter almost tripped over. But he didn’t feel an itch.

“I would have been honoured to fight alongside you, but you’re not a jerk for wanting a normal life. I’m almost glad you can be just a kid for a little bit longer.”

No itch. Just a bit of guilt. After all, he was running away, wasn’t he?

“Some hero I am,” Peter mumbled.

“Hey, now,” A hand came down to clasp his shoulder, and Peter fought himself to not immediately leap away, “Don’t worry about it. You get back to your hotel and rest up, and then keep going on your vacation.”

Peter let himself look over and saw the expected gentle smile and kind eyes. Either something was up with the soul-bond or Beck was one heck of a confusing liar. None of that last part caused Peter’s skin to flare up. But everything else--

“This is it.” Beck suddenly stopped. A little hotel, more luxurious than what Peter and his classmates were staying at, but still definitely a budget choice. And also, quite familiar. Wasn’t this that place he passed on the boat with Fury before--

“I’ll see you again maybe, Peter.” Beck put forth his hand. Peter took it with a lot more caution than before, gripping it a bit too harshly.

And then Beck just… walked inside. Rather anticlimactically. Nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary from the outside. Only Peter knew about lies weaved onto his skin.

Peter rushed into an ally nearby. He rolled up his pants, to see a mark, and looked down into his shirt to see the other one, and another by his hip and another and another. Lies. Black lies.

The poor teenager crashed onto the ground. None of what Beck even _sounded_ like a lie. A warrior from another universe that followed a bunch of world-ending elemental monsters that are now destroying this Earth? Somehow in Peter’s messed up life, that was actually believable. It’s not like less than a year ago Peter fought alongside gods and aliens to save all life in the universe after being dead for 5 years.

Not to mention, that water monster was _there._ Peter has the drenched clothes to prove it. How could that possibly be a lie? And another monster was coming soon, right? Well, surely--

Oh.

That was a bad idea.

That was a really bad idea.

A very easy, but also very bad, bad, _bad,_ idea.

So horribly planned out in fact that Peter should definitely not be jumping and heading in the direction of Fury’s hideout, and should not follow through with this idea, and should maybe just go back to his classmates and have a normal vacation like a normal goddam high-school kid. And the last thing he should be doing is entering Fury’s hideout and surprising everyone during what appears to be make-shift dinner.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

\----

“And then he just walked in saying he changed his mind.” Fury continued telling.

“Oh, how convenient.” Frankly, Beck didn’t care enough to put in more effort.

“Whatever you said must’ve knocked some sense into him.”

“Oh?” Shut up, this isn’t important.

“Plan’s changed a bit, but for the better.” _Shut up._

Somehow Beck made it through the call without snapping. The moment he hung up he threw his phone into the corner. It made an awful crack and bounced on the bathroom tiles, but it was a burner anyway. He had another issue to deal with.

Quentin remembers one mark, and one mark only, that should be on his body. He knew exactly where it was, written in what honestly looked like white crayon, and he could quote the exact words without looking.

_i hate you…_

And for the love of God, Beck couldn’t remember where he got it. It was just there suddenly, an innocent lie, in white. He’d been busy that day; running from his office and twice to the post and then to the hospital. How was he supposed to know who had said that loud enough for him to hear and get that mark?

And now he laughed. Oh, now he really laughed. Whoever that phrase was directed at before doesn’t matter. The irony was that now it might as well be directed at him.

They thought they’d be lucky. They thought, since Beck got that child-like handwriting many years ago in New York, surely that would mean nobody on Fury’s team would be his soulmate, right? Not in Mexico, Italy and England, right? It was another reason for having a 'secret identity', to let Mysterio and Quentin Beck live out somewhat separate lives if need be.

Quentin didn’t know what to expect from his soulmate.

But a reaction of dread was definitely below the reaction of joy on his imaginary list of scenarios.

Peter was coming with them to Prague. For some reason, despite the lies, oh god, despite the countless marks that must be etched onto his body right now, Peter didn’t alert Fury and was now coming with them.

Beck could hardly reason why. He was too worked up to even stop and calm down. Instead, he dug his nails into every phrase on his body, and for a few moments, as his skin turned white, he could pretend that he was just hallucinating, that no letters were written on him. But of course, then his skin burned red, and the lies all stood out angry and violent. Far more obvious, and taunting.

How the hell was Quentin Beck supposed to lie now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, you guys had such a nice reaction to this so here's more :)  
> and it's caused me to actually plan out a rough idea of where I want this to go and maybe even finish it?? like whaaat
> 
> Please let me know of any spelling/grammar mistakes <3


	3. Float around like loose atoms

Beck clearly remembered the day Janice told them that a teenager, a goddam _kid_ , was getting access to E.D.I.T.H. Multibillion-dollar weapons system, designed to access anything and anywhere, with the ability to control the world when necessary… and Stark gave it to a child.

A lot of mixed emotions came with that information. Stark called _him_ unhinged and unstable, and then went ahead and pulled this shit; passing down the keys to the world after having promptly died in the most dramatic way possible, leaving no chance for a child to live up to his legacy.

But credit where credit is due, and Stark certainly deserved some for making their jobs a little easier. Manipulating some famed spy or Asgardian warrior would have been much more difficult than a grieving teenager from Queens, desperate for someone else to make his choices. The fact that the kid was Spider-Man should’ve been their only challenge, but now…

Beck told his crew a mere minute after ending the call with Fury.

“Well, this sucks.”

Beck turned his head, glaring across the room at whoever spoke, “Yeah, no shit.”

“And he definitely knows by now?” Doug asked, watching as their crew’s leader started pacing again in circles.

“If he doesn’t then he’s an idiot,” Beck suddenly stopped, looking out the window of their little meeting spot, the city sound asleep in the night, far away from any curious eyes, “Parker may be a teen in mourning, but he isn’t blind. When I met him again he had changed his clothes.”

“And you’ve also got the…?”

“For the last time, _yes!_ ” Just to finally get it in their skulls, Beck lifted the hem of his shirt, to where he knew a particularly large mark lay. Some of them blushed and looked away, but screw ‘privacy’ and ‘tradition’, there were more important things going on, “And now Peter is onboard and heading to Prague with us, without having alerted Fury.”

Hushed conversations and quiet comments sprung up in the small room, some pointing out all the things that could go wrong, others listing everything that’s already wrong. Beck was particularly annoyed to hear some pitiful voices. He already knew how bad this was for him and Peter… no need to rub it in.

“’Ight, ‘ight, let’s just think about this logically.” Guterman stepped forward, gesturing for people to calm down, “We have to stick to our story, or we run with our tails between our legs.”

“Little difficult if the kid knows everything’s bullshit.”

“Janice just--” The writer sent her an exasperated look, before continuing, “Fury will be suspicious if we change something. But we can’t keep lying to the kid either. _But_ we also happen to have a soulmate pair with us here.”

Guterman looked over their little crowd, where their two resident lovers sat. The duo in question glanced between each other; Tina and her husband William. They met years ago, and Tina agreed to help William in carrying out this revengeful task, where her talents in costume design came in very handy.

“We can cheat the system.” Guterman continued, “Find out what would work or not. There are already some rules everyone knows I’m sure, like sarcasm. So, we push that limit, play around to keep things going _—_ ”

“Guter, you’re saying we should manipulate the laws of the universe.” Beck cut him off, already not liking where the man was headed, “A little bit of a step up from manipulating a kid.”

“Beck he’s your _soulmate_ , which is bad enough as it is to be caught in the cross-wires like this, but what choice do we have?”

Once again, every gaze turned downright pitiful. Not that they were much different before, almost everyone had given him some version of a sad, distraught, shocked or pitiful look when he first told them. And pointing out Beck’s soulmate complication was just a dick move at this point, he fucking knew he was doomed without someone saying so.

“Alright, fine!” Beck said through gritted his teeth, “William, Tina, figure out any loopholes. Otherwise, we’ll proceed as per the original plan. I’ll try to watch my words around the kid but pretend nothing’s changed. We just need to hold off Peter telling anyone, find out why he hasn’t told anyone yet, and then deal with him after London.”

‘Deal with it later’, was always a good go-to when things were down. But Beck couldn’t lie to himself here, no matter how they played this off, in the long run, there was no happy ending for them. Peter would either find out eventually and that’ll be it, or Beck will have to end things before it ever got that far…

There was only one soulmate for Quentin Beck, and he just happened to get really fucking unlucky.

Kill him. Eventually, he’d have to kill Peter Parker.

Right?

\---

While his classmates were off to France, one day travel together, then almost two full days in Paris, visiting museums and the Eiffel Tower, Peter was throwing his bags into the back of a black van, preparing for 9-hour car ride with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Fury and… Mysterio.

His lying soulmate. Quentin Beck. Great.

Ned was excited. He didn’t know every detail, so of course, he was. His best friend is ‘on a super cool mission to save the world!’ not ‘on a super stupid mission trying to see if his soulmate is lying about elemental monsters despite being punched by water yesterday!’.

Peter managed to conveniently avoid Beck all morning. He arrived at the hideout early in the morning, bags packed, then spent the rest of the morning ‘busily’ running around, pretending to be doing something, and finally asked to ride in Ms Hill’s car to ‘catch up on sleep’ seeing as she was usually quiet. And he hoped she would take pity on him.

Beck didn’t exactly seek him out either, for which Peter was relieved. Just a friendly ‘good morning’ and ‘thank you for joining us’ when Peter first arrived. No itch on either of those things at least. He had enough marks to last a lifetime anyway. And soon or later they will start piling outside the range of his hoodie and jeans.

Speaking of marks and soulmates, Peter was really an idiot. That thought came to him just as Venice disappeared from sight. He was a complete and utter idiot.

Instead of running to Fury, or Hill, or really anyone that could help, he opened up a Chrome tab and started asking the internet for answers, while building on his half-assed plan: figure out what _the fuck_ is going on.

“Hey? Parker!”

Crashing down to the present, Peter reluctantly tore his eyes off his phone, quickly hiding the Buzzfeed ‘Everything YOU need to know about soulmates’ article he was browsing. Along with the ‘Soulmates’ Wikipedia page, a couple of New York Times posts on the same subject, and a very wordy research paper on the multiverse theory. Scrambling to sit upright, he looked out the car window, only now realising that they stopped.

“We’re just taking a quick break. 10 minutes.” Hill kept talking, unbuckling and climbing out the passenger seat herself, “Stretch your legs. Use the restroom if you need.”

Peter dumbly nodded and followed suit.

Peter was pretty sure they were passing through Austria to get to Prague. Why Nick Fury couldn’t just book a flight, Peter didn’t understand. They were now somewhere up in the Austrian alps, the air fresh and cold, so much cleaner than New York or even Venice. A lush forest surrounded the little village they appeared to stop in, and a few locals sat on a couple of benches near their parking spot, drinking and laughing. Peter momentarily wondered how it would have been to pass this place with his friends.

Several members of Fury’s team were walking around, making small talk or walking away in groups towards some building or another. One even popped into the bar on the other side of the street, looking around carefully before entering. Everyone seemed to know each other… and Peter was just some kid. Just some kid that could throw a bus.

Maria Hill was already nowhere to be seen, and neither was Fury for that matter. The only other guy Peter recognised was ‘Dmitri’, who stood glaring at everyone and everything, and then there was Beck. Yeah, Peter wasn’t going anywhere near that.

_Figure out what’s going on_. Eventually.

10 minutes. Right. Peter rushed to the restroom, guessing that they wouldn’t stop another time until Prague and also using that as an excuse not to respond to Beck when the man politely smiled at him.

“Five-minutes people!”

Exiting the bathroom, Peter made a beeline for Ms Hill’s car, eager to just climb in and hide, and resume his ‘planning’. Sarcasm seemed to not trigger the bond, and lies could be corrected, so maybe if he can get Beck to slip up and tell the truth? Take a mark or two off? Alternatively, even plain innocent lies leave a mark, so perhaps with enough lies, they’ll seep out from under the covers of clothing. Much less awkward than asking the man to take his shirt off to confirm. So, if Peter could just play it cool and—

“Peter!” But of course, screw planning. The universe always had other ideas for him.

Beck. Fucking Beck. Trying to mask his frown, Peter turned around, and to the best of his acting abilities smiled.

“Hey kid,” Peter hummed in response, not trusting his voice, but the man didn’t seem bothered by it, “I know you were tired this morning, but I thought I could join you for the rest of the trip.”

Oh no.

“…Or not? If you still want to rest then I understand, just thought we might get to know each other _—_ ”

Peter wasn’t really listening, rather quite mortified that he had just mumbled ‘oh no’ as an answer to such a seemingly friendly suggestion. Beck had even frowned and looked almost hurt. Asshole; guilt-tripping like that.

“No! No that’s not what I meant, um,” Scratching at the back of his head, Peter spoke the first thing that came to mind, hoping to merely salvage the situation, “Just didn’t except it? I-I’d just assumed you’d want to talk to like… someone else.” Vague phrasing also didn’t seem to trigger the bond. If played right. Somehow Peter doubted he was _that_ skilled of a liar.

“Eh, these guys are all the same after five minutes.” Beck waved a hand as if brushing away the air, not all bothered by Peter’s awkwardness. In a lower voice, he then added, “Plus, I’m not really gonna be working with them, am I?” And gave Peter that same kind smile as before.

It was really unfair that a lying bastard like Beck had a smile so sweet. Guess it worked in his favour. Peter only answered after he made sure no new marks were etched onto him, “I-I guess, yeah.”

No other viable excuse came to mind. Hastily looking anywhere but into Beck’s eyes, Peter simply gestured to the other side of the car and crawled into his previous spot, seat still warm, leather dented from where he had sat for however many hours before. Just as he shut the door on himself, Beck settled in next to him, only the middle seat leaving some distance between them, and closed his door.

With a fake yawn that somehow turned into a real one, Peter kept his eyes glued to the window, trying to keep his breathing under control. And when looking outside was taking an awkward amount of time, he pretended to be looking for someone. Ms Hill perhaps, he could justify, seeing as pretty much everyone was back in their cars and they were supposed to leave soon anyway.

“Hey,” But again, looking around could only take up so much time. Peter forced his shoulders to relax and turned around, his best attempt at an innocent look at play. But he couldn’t keep the man’s gaze for too long, before needing to tear his eyes away. It was just too much.

“I know you’d probably much rather go to London or wherever with your friends,” Beck said, resting an elbow on the windowsill, sort of leaning away from Peter, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

The man paused, maybe to let the words sink in. All Peter waited for was _the_ feeling. It didn’t come.

“Sucks for your holiday though.” Beck continued, “But maybe we can still get in a bit of site-seeing afterwards.”

Peter nodded slowly, a relief flowing through him as Ms Hill came up next to the driver’s door. “A-Afterwards?” And _we?_

“Well, if the world doesn’t end and all.” There was humour in Beck’s voice, and Peter could practically hear the man smiling. But the words sent a chill down his spine.

Peter hummed in acknowledgement, apparently too sadly for Beck, who apologised soon after.

“It’ll be fine Pete, I promise.” And oh, how Peter wanted to believe him. He sighed, grimacing when his breath came out a bit too shaky to appear calm. When Hill sat down, barely acknowledging Beck’s presence, Peter finally got the confidence to look at the man again. God, his plan, if it could even be called that, was rather hopeless now that he was amidst its execution.

For a ‘typical’ teenager, he really didn’t know much about soulmates. Most of what he now knows, he absorbed in the last couple of hours. And most of what he knows on espionage he learned by watching crappy TV shows with Ned at 2 am.

This was not going to be easy. Maybe, foolish would be the best description.

There were only two things he could do: wait and see if the fire monster is real, even though the water one was, and he saw and felt it.

Or lie.

Lie his goddamn heart out. Lie until every inch of Beck is covered in as many if not more marks than Peter. Lie until Beck either finds out himself, which could mean a number of things depending on what’s real or not, or until Peter catches him with a mark, confirming at least the universal connection.

He never really liked it. Lying that is. He wasn’t bad at it verbally and tonally per se, but let’s say he hasn’t ever won at poker. Hence the mask.

So, wait, or lie. Or both.

Yeah, actually, probably both. Do both.

Peter cleared his throat, and sent his final prayers to whatever Gods out there, Thor or some other, before bringing up an easy conversation starter, “So, have you been to Prague before?”

The car rumbled to alive, and they were off.

\---

When Peter rather obviously ignored him in the morning, Quentin was actually relieved. It gave him time to plan, and time for his team to get back to him with more lying tips. So far, the usual bullshit; sarcasm, ‘knowing’ lies, and taking back a lie. Anything that an amateur can look up online basically.

The useful information, however, came from Tina and William’s experimenting. If Beck truly believes what he says, he’s not lying. The couple had a blast bringing up past disputes that they still held onto. And a few classified files they had no issues getting into, revealed that brainwashed victims could spout any lies they were made to believe, and their soulmates would not get a mark.

If Beck played his cards right, and he pretty much always did, he could tell what was technically the truth, even if in context, it would be a lie.

No, if Fury asked him the specifics of their next elemental and he regurgitated the script Guterman made him memorise, that would not fool the universe. But other little things? Maybe. As long as he kept it balanced. Going from all lies to none would also be suspicious.

Too bad he can’t exactly practice without Peter around. And Peter was exactly the one causing all these problems. A small part of Beck wanted to lash out and yell and scream and maybe slap the kid for ruining what was a perfect plan.

Speaking of, Peter was nervous, practically vibrating pure anxiety off of him. He should also really stop calling Peter ‘kid’, they were established soulmates now, not mentor-mentees, or possible father-figure and young protege. Unless the ki— _Peter_ , was into it. With the dominoes falling into place so perfectly throughout Peter’s life, Beck wouldn’t be surprised. And he himself wouldn’t exactly obje—

He stopped his thoughts from running loose for the third time that day. Getting a soulmate really got his mind running.

“…been to Prague before?”

Peter was actually looking at him now, as opposed to avoiding all eye contact possible like before. Perhaps because Agent Hill was in the car now and he felt safer.

“No, never got around to it,” He answered smoothly, waving a hand in the air. That was true, he never did, “Came close once when travelling Europe, but decided against it last minute. Not sure why now.”

Because it was boring as hell that time of year, he had better things to do before university. But a little, hopefully still white, lie would keep Peter in place, uncertain, questioning, and most importantly _silent._

Beck forced himself not to look down when the boy’s arm twitched, possibly a mark sprouting there.

“Travelling Europe… Back on y-your world, right?”

Straight to the difficult questions. That little shit probably knew _exactly_ what he was asking about.

“ _Yeah_ ,” He kept his face neutral, even if his voice came out a little frustrated, and made sure to only be thinking of his _real_ memories. Restricting his throat as if to sound a little pained, rather than angry, Beck continued, “It was really beautiful from what I can remember. Though that was a long time ago now.”

The kid — Peter, for the _last_ time, _Peter_ — seemed to pale a little, hopefully falling for the ‘not lie’ bait. It really was beautiful. But is it a painful memory of a world that Beck can no longer go back to? No, not that far. It’s all about the wording, as William had explained.

As quickly as Peter’s poker face slipped, it was back. Well, there was barely a poker face, to begin with, but the… ‘not stressed’ look was back. No wonder Peter wore a mask.

“W-Well, I would’ve preferred Paris over Prague, if I’m honest.” He shrugged then, the action far too stiff to be natural, but Beck politely ignored that, “All I remember are the crepes from this one little café, thought I could try find it again.”

And then that itch, light as a feather yet ever so obviously present, came running down Beck’s forearm, coming dangerously close to the edge of his jacket. Not expecting the upfront lie, Beck accidentally twitched, composure faltering for a moment.

Frowning, as he really was slightly confused, Beck questioned more, “Oh, you’ve been there before?”

“A long time ago,” Peter briefly glanced at him suddenly, and he knew, oh Peter knew, he fucking knew _exactly_ what he was saying, “I was maybe… 4? Or 5. I don’t know. That was the only other time I was ever overseas.”

The tingling sensation came moments after, up along Beck’s calve, and Peter just kept looking at him, out of the corner of his eye, and somehow without a smile, the brat managed looked so damn smug. Given how good Beck got at lying for their little world stunt, it was almost charming to see Peter try and fight on Beck’s territory.

Okay then, two can play at that game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, updating the first-ever fic I posted here...  
> trust me, i know where the plot is going... *wink wink* (i don't, help)
> 
> if you're coming back due to the update, why thank you very much, i hope the story so far does not disappoint <3
> 
> please correct grammar/spelling mistakes!!


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